My Story254

Greeting fellow butch-worthy loins!
I do hope that you will take a slice of time away from slaughtering those pesky little veals to merely gander through a brief explanation of my past tales.
I began a pig in China. It's tough being a pig in China. Everyone out to get you, trying to make you something to devour. For a western girl like myself, it's all too easy to get squeamish with the non...how to put it....non-pork chop aspects of eating a pig.
I thought, what better way to avoid becoming another butchers meat wedge, but to become a butcher myself. Cannibalism? More like survival. I would not allow myself to become another trophy in Mr Spangle's meat locker. I decided, I would butch pig, cold and barbaric butch.
Having travelled over a fair bit of China I can now say that pork chops are probably the least interesting edible parts of a pig. Having tried air-dried salted pig's cheek in the villages near Huangshan, and seen preserved and deboned pigs' heads in Shanghai, I was no longer surprised to walk into the open air market in Dali, about three hours south of Lijiang, to find these scorched and blackened pigs' heads for sale on a heavy Tuesday.
The pigs' heads were being torched at very high heat, while the butcher rested his other hand nonchalantly on a snout. I'm unsure whether the scorching burnt off all the tough bristles, or served another purpose, but once the heads were thoroughly blackened they were passed across to the butcheress, to have their ears sliced off - the white fat underneath a stark contrast to the black skin.
Not many people know this, but as a wine connoisseur I can correctly determine with a drop of confidence that Chinese red (kid) wine is without a doubt the correct gruel to serve with an oinkling like myself.
Once travelling the ancient lands of China, I settled down in the Black Forest where a strange family raised me as their own to become the son of the Butcher's Master. In other words, I am the Btucher's Guild. You will worship me like I was the black knife of Dunclemere. Scorched regards, the Butch king.

during my time in the republic of spice i can confirm that this story is in fact fabricated. I consider it extremely offensive to the ever expanding band of butchers in this most honourable guild. think on your sins young one.